Put Me In My Place
by wedgie
Summary: Someone's having a bad day... RaphxDon
1. Donatello

Put Me in My Place

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Someone's having a bad day…

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned below, unless Mirage Entertainment wants to give me the best birthday present EVER.

Warnings: If turtles touchin' each other isn't for you, then I don't suggest scrolling down. This is also my very first fanfiction, so don't be too cruel and I might write more.

* * *

Normally cool and collected, the purple clad turtle boiled secretly within his laboratory. The fishbowl screensaver his brother, Michelangelo, had downloaded beckoned for his attention once more, showing he had not touched his keyboard in the previous five minutes. He had too much to think about; too many memories from the day eating away at his brain. With an aggravated growl, he scared away the jolly fish swimming around on his monitor by flicking the mouse. Three previous attempts were unsuccessful. Perhaps the fourth would prove fruitful.

To his dismay, the fish swam back exactly five minutes later, except, it only felt like a few mere seconds as he had been engulfed in the tragedy of his day. What seemed so long ago, his family had possessed a brother naturally bearing the traits of a leader. Leonardo eagerly accepted this responsibility and did the job well. But it had been some time since the perfect son disappeared. His letters ceased, his training period was over, and he never returned home. This, of course, was the foundation of Donatello's problems.

Donatello was the meek and quiet brother that preferred his laboratory responsibilities over any duties Leonardo readily handled. When Leonardo first packed for his "short" journey to South America, the family had decided without a word that Donatello would be in charge in his absence. There was no discussion, it was just a fact. He dreaded the night his brother silently slipped out of their lair and lives. He was willing to shoulder the well being of his family as much as any of them were, but Leonardo had a special quality he simply lacked. After he sat down and thought about it, Donatello realized he was missing many of Leonardo's leadership qualities. When he watched Leonardo glide out the door without a single look back, he remembered thinking the next few months would be nothing short of a disaster.

Donatello was right, of course. He was always right. Sometimes, he really hated being right. At first, the family functioned what one could call normal without their eldest brother. They treated each other with the habitual respect they always had when Leonardo's vigilant eye was watching. His father and younger brother accepted him as a temporary replacement. Even Raphael, despite his obvious annoyance at being overlooked, showed some lost level of respect for the new authority. After all, it was only temporary, and if they were malicious to Donatello, they would eventually have to answer to Leonardo.

Donatello's brief tumble into leadership training twisted into an irreversible crash and burn when the letters stopped coming. The phony respect he received from the others faded to black as well. There was no use fearing the brother that no longer existed, and thus no retribution for disobeying his stand-in.

The weeks after he was scheduled to return turned into months, and those months evolved into a year. Still, there was no sign of the favorite son. Their father vocally forgave the eldest for his absence and focused his disappointment elsewhere. If Leonardo was still away, there had to be a grand explanation. But for poor Donatello, his lack of Leonardo's skills was open season for the hurt father. No matter how hard he tried, he could not be the son the father was missing. He never wanted to be.

"_I am most disappointed in you, Donatello."_

The words still rang in his ears from their earlier encounter. Though he had heard them many times in the past few months, they were particularly cruel this morning. Maybe because he stayed up too late nursing a sick Michelangelo back to decent health. Maybe because he drank too much caffeine, trying to stay alert during their morning training. Maybe because no matter hard he tried, he could not win the sparring matches between himself and his hotheaded brother. Maybe because when Raphael lost his temper for the fifth time that week, he had not been able to control the situation before the turtle trudged out of the lair.

The fish were back and Donatello did not have the heart to send them into oblivion again. He closed his eyes and mentally tried to push away a looming ache that would inevitably become a throbbing migraine. Donatello sighed, opening his eyes and watching his screen. He allowed the fish their victory dance: a swim back and forth and forth and back in an almost mesmerizing fashion.

After the practice, he was incredibly sore. The lack of rest was not helping, but the culprit was mainly the extra matches his father demanded of Raphael and him. Their father wanted him to win; to put Raphael in his place for being so angry about whatever pissed him off today; to prove one could not successfully battle with anger in their heart. Leonardo would have succeeded. But he was not Leonardo, and he could not beat Raphael. Their father's lesson failed because he failed.

Frankly, he had not succeeded at much of anything since Leonardo left. He rarely had time to work in his lab. If he did, his father would give him guilty looks and disappointed gazes. If he did not, he would be dealing with one of his brothers, who reminded him everyday he was nothing like the eldest. They rarely listened to him and lately, there was not a day on the calendar he did not want to lock them both in some deep, dark cellar where they could not cause trouble.

A door slammed shut upstairs and shook him from his thoughts once more. He involuntarily rubbed a sore spot on his shoulder. _Raph was home_. When he realized what he was doing, he stopped. That sore was not from sparring practice. He shivered at the thought. Donatello had followed Raphael after his master's harsh words. He did not expect to actually catch up to the hothead, but there he was, leaning against the sewer pipe under the manhole closest to the clan's topside garage.

_Donatello offended ninjas everywhere when he noisily stomped to his brother's side. He started to feel the anger then. The swelling in the back of his throat and burning behind his eyes that warned him he had to maintain control. He swallowed his feelings and slowly breathed out. Raphael had not even looked towards him and he was only a few feet away. Finally, Donatello opted to speak._

_"You…"_

_And that was all he was able to say before a strong hand covered his mouth and slammed his head into the ridged pipeline. "No, Donnie. You ain't comin' out here to lecture me, like ol' Fearless." _

_Donatello mumbled incoherently a few words behind his brother's hand but nothing audible made it through. He did not bother struggling, knowing his brother was the stronger of the pair. He just stared at him with sad eyes._

_"If ya ain't out here to lecture, then whatya doin' here, Donnie?" Raphael let go of his brother's face with one hand, to squeeze his brother's shoulder with the other. _

_Raphael's hold was relentless, and Donatello narrowed his eyes momentarily from the rough display. "I… uh... well…" Donatello's mind blanked and he found himself staring into Raphael's threatening gaze like a deer in headlights. Why did he bother chasing after his brother?_

_Raphael smirked at his brother's intelligent response. "Well if you're dyin' to give that mouth of yours somethin' to do…" He forced the younger sibling with both arms now, down towards the sewer floor and onto his knees._

There relationship had not always been so… physical. Donatello might have smiled with fond memories, had his day been anything other than a nightmare. He remembered a time when they were actually pleasant to one another. They enjoyed each other's company and their physical trysts were more intimate. Now, everything was a competition. It was a competition because he was the "leader" and Raphael was not. It was a competition for dominance. It was the competition between Raph and Leo. Leonardo was gone. There was only Donatello. And Donatello always lost. It was not a competition at all.

_Donatello's day, from that point, could not have gotten any worse, except somehow Michelangelo managed it. The youngest turtle was sick in bed, the same place he had left him. He was able to get soup down Michelangelo's throat, but eventually it came back up, all over his plastron. He cleaned off and got his younger brother to finally drift of to sleep. "Good night, Mikey." Donatello smiled down at the innocent face of his brother._

"_I wish Leo was here." Donatello's smile faded._

Donatello's hands balled up into fists and he gritted his teeth. Anger was a foreign emotion for the usually sensible turtle, but this new reality was finally crawling under his skin. Leonardo was not coming back. This day, much like the days he experienced over the last year, was not going to suddenly disappear. He had patiently waited until something would change and take them all back to when they were happy. But nothing changed. The thin threaded tolerance splintered with each passing moment. It was inevitable it would snap and everything that tiny thread supported would crash down upon his shoulders.

Two fish swam merrily, passing one another, encircling and dancing. Donatello watched, submitting to their show. Submitting. Even an image loop placed carelessly on his computer defeated him. He was beaten by Little Nemo and Flounder, two random silly fish on his computer screen. The thread snapped.

It took every ounce of his self control not to scream at the top of his lungs. He opted to throw the keyboard instead, taking with it the mouse and a few unlucky gadgets still plugged into the U.S.B. Those damned fish were scared away again and his blank screen greeted him.

Donatello pushed himself away from his computer desk and allowed his rolling chair to knock over a stack of files clumsily placed behind him. _Why could he never win? What was so wrong with him calling the shots for once? What stopped him from being the turtle they all wanted him to be after Leonardo's disappearance?_ He set out from his laboratory, maybe in search of these answers. Maybe just to get to his room and sleep it off. Maybe just to cause trouble for those that continuously caused him despair. He punched the power switch on the way out of his lab and the lights flickered off. He conquered two tantalizing fish and a lighting system. What else could he set forth to rule?

Donatello found himself outside his older brother's door. Before he could even second guess his actions, he had already turned the doorknob and shut the door behind him. His brother snored comfortably in his hammock and appeared to be asleep. For ninjas, though, Donatello had no way of telling if his presence was known. Not that he bothered to ponder on it as he stomped towards his sibling and put both hands around his neck.

"What tha…"

The snoring had stopped and two hands grabbed his own, but he was definitely at the advantage. Donatello was the weaker of the two, but he was still incredibly strong. He pulled his brother from his pleasant dreams and slammed him against the wall, still holding the sensitive area between the neck and shoulders. Donatello's bruising grip held the mildly struggling brother who was still stunned by his rude awakening. He then forcefully kissed Raphael, biting his lower lip and tasting blood. The session continued for a few more seconds, until rough hands clawed at Donatello's shoulders.

Donatello grabbed his brother's wrists and shoved them into the wall near Raphael's head. There was not a single glimpse of gentility in the measure. "Not tonight, Raph." Donatello growled as he finally stopped to catch his breath. He watched narrow eyes somehow grow even more dangerous.

Ignoring the threatening gaze, Donatello moved past his brother's mouth and pillaged his brother's deliciously sensitive skin on his throat. Raphael never stopped struggling, and Donatello secured the forceful position against the wall with his right leg against his brother's thigh. Each time Raphael seemed close to getting an upper hand, Donatello merely bit down harder and caused his brother to retract. From pain or pleasure, he was not sure.

Donatello finally lost his advantage as sleep and shock faded from Raphael's eyes. A lustful gaze and evil smirk caught his attention and shot a bolt of warning up his spine. Donatello's rage, the current source of his power, had also started to dwindle, and his mind was filling with thoughts and warnings and possibly regrets.

His face must have been an open book to Raphael, because the smirk shifted into an all-knowing sneer. Donatello's hold on his brother was fearfully ignored and Raphael easily pushed the younger sibling away. As he moved from the wall, Donatello's brain clicked back into action, but it was far too late. He knew he was going to lose. Again.

Sex put them on an uneven playing field; intellect versus brawn in a game that preyed upon coherent thought and intensified physical strength. It simply was not fair.

* * *

Author's Note: Eh. I ended it there because maybe I am still a bit shy to write a sex scene, at least one as violent as can be expected. I may or may not post it up later, depending on the deviant nature of my imagination. Hope it was not too painful to read. Don't flog me, it was my first attempt!

- oh, and I suppose Donatello might be somewhat out of character... but I neglected to warn against it in the beginning because that is kind of the point. o.o;


	2. Raphael

Put Me in My Place – Chapter Two

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Someone's having a bad day…

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned below, unless Mirage Entertainment wants to give me the best birthday present EVER.

Warnings: If turtles touchin' each other isn't for you, then I don't suggest scrolling down. This is also my very first fan fiction, so don't be too cruel and I might write more.

Another Warning: I'm a researcher, not a writer. I meddle in details. I swim in details. I bathe in details. I drown in details. I can not turn it off, I've tried. Don't hate!

* * *

It seemed like a continuation of the nightmare he had been experiencing. Another chapter his mind was revealing; something much worse than before. Isn't that how bad dreams go? Constantly proving that any situation could be worse until the mind is forced to wake up the victim like a safety-net?

This dream seemed so real, though. Donatello trying to wrestle away the one thing he had left: his control. The only thing he always thought he could call his own and treasure until the end of time. Why would Donatello ever try to take something so valuable from someone he supposedly loved? He would not. It was just a bad dream.

Realization finally set forth and there he was, penned against the wall by his mate. Donatello was showing an aggressive side Raphael had never even imagined existed. Raphael was never one for pondering, though. Nor was he ever good at words and finding that right thing to say. He was all about action. Raphael acted and reacted. And reaction took over as he shoved Donatello off of his body, into the center of his room.

His reaction was anger, but also excitement. Anger because Donatello was trying to steal something he held very dear; excitement because he was finally called upon to react. And he smirked at how interesting that reaction was going to be. To put the heavily breathing turtle in front of him back in his place and have a good time doing it. Donatello deserved whatever he received from threatening him. He was practically begging for it by initiating this scene.

Raphael stood at full height and flexed his arms and legs, ridding his body of any remaining drowsiness. And the atmosphere changed as well. There was no aggressive motions from Donatello's direction, only timid, well thought scrunches of the hands and prevented looks towards the door. His brain was churning again, and thus his weaknesses were illuminated. Raphael sneered. Donatello was nervous. Possibly realizing what punishment his sudden bout of passion was going to render.

Raphael had already obtained all the consent he needed to continue. Donatello's forceful incident earlier was more than enough. Raphael hesitated still, though, as he gazed at his brother. Hesitation was not a familiar past time to him, but he could not help that his body became immobilized. His anger was replaced with insecurity. Raphael had locked eyes with Donatello and simply froze. Those eyes were fearful. Fearful of him. And he had never felt so out of place in his entire life.

For a brief moment, Raphael's head swam with the few thoughts he had ever conjured on the subject of him and Donatello. Most of them had been born in the last few weeks. Feelings of neglect and confusion pulled at his heart. This turtle a few feet away from him, maybe he was trying to tell Raphael something in a language he understood. He was never one for listening; perhaps he missed something. Donatello had been recently secluding himself and ignoring Raphael. At least that was what it felt like. Possibly the sudden attack on Raphael's control was Donatello's way of punishing him for not doing something right? Raphael was just not a "candy and flowers" kind of guy. Was he being punished for it? Raphael was doing something wrong, whether he knew it or not, and he knew, from Donatello's eyes, that it was all his fault.

And the contemplation was over. He stepped forward, almost cautiously, but not quite. His beak was just above Donatello's when he stopped. The turtle had not moved. Donatello's eyes had spoken and it was Raphael's turn to reply. Raphael's own hazel eyes were sending a message he had not instructed them to do, and he would not have realized it if Donatello's had not changed. Fear faded away from the younger turtle's features; a soft and assuring glaze replaced it.

Raphael internally blinked, though his eyes remained steady. Now that his confidence was not under attack, he could continue. New permission was necessary at this point, and his brother's sanctioning eyes provided this.

And Raphael's smirk returned, though more playful than anything. So, Donatello was willing to accept the consequences of his actions. It was a gratifying notion for Raphael. "I can see you're dealin' with some uh… deep shit there, Donnie, but maybe you've done smarter things with that brain of yours." Talking was never one of Raphael's strong points. He was absolutely poor at finding the right words. If he wanted to comfort his brother from whatever the turtle was going through, he would have to do so through actions, not chitchat.

When Donatello looked up at the sudden noise, Raphael caught his mate's lips with his own. When his action was accepted, Raphael pressed on, showing strength without being rough. Donatello seemed so fragile tonight. He would hate to break him.

Raphael carefully yanked at one of Donatello's wrist guards. When it slid off into his palm, he leisurely let it drop to the floor, among the rest of his own gear. Eventually, their gear was littering the messy floor of Raphael's room. Donatello's mask was last, and Raphael folded it around his hand a few times before placing it on top of his own on some barely standing make-shift shelf hanging just behind them.

It took some willpower not to smile like a school girl with a crush when Raphael noticed Donatello blushing, apparently from their "nakedness." It was not like they were physically less exposed than before, but mentally, those pads and especially the mask functioned as clothes would for humans. They made people feel less vulnerable to others around them. Raphael just raised an eyebrow to hide the warm mushy spike of affection and mentally cursed its existence in the first place. "Come 'ere." Raphael feigned impatience and yanked on Donatello's hand.

The light tug was followed up by another deep kiss. Raphael gave his hammock a swift thought. No, any tomfoolery in that would convert it to a hanging death trap. He slid his tongue past his brother's open lips and lashed it about in exploration. The floor was the obvious option. Raphael relished in the heat building up between them. The worry that his brother would end it before Raphael wanted it to forced his hand to the back of Donatello's head to hold him in place. The floor would not do. Donatello deserved better than the floor.

Raphael urged Donatello's head up with his thumb as he continued his expedition. Each stop along the way, his teeth braised his brother's skin, wanting more. Each time, a small whimper escaped his partner's lips. His self control was always on a balance beam with Donatello. From sheer will power, he hadn't topped him yet, forced him to the ground whether or not his sibling approved. With such a mental image, he softly growled and his teeth sunk further into Donatello's skin than expected. Donatello moaned again through clinched teeth and his arms rubbed over his lover's skin, urging him to do more and more.

Raphael lapped over his handiwork on Donatello's neck soothingly before continuing down to his collarbone in the same slow and steady movements. Restraining himself was more difficult than he ever thought possible, but his options were scarce and it was getting more difficult to think of a solution to his predicament. Meanwhile, Donatello was growing more desperate in his movements as if he was fearful Raphael had not notice his permission to continue further.

"Maybe stoppin' here will teach ya your lesson, Donnie-boy." Raphael whispered into Donatello's neck. Raphael smirked against his brother's skin, thoroughly enjoying his taunting.

He missed the wide eyed stare that shot from Donatello after his words, mainly because he was falling backwards unexpectedly. He was on his shell before he knew it with an agitated genius greedily hunting for something on Raphael's lower plastron. Raphael raised a quick eyebrow before rectifying the current situation in which he found himself.

The floor it is.

So much for gentle. Donatello was securely under him the next instant. Raphael abandoned his attempts and finally answered Donatello's pleading eyes with his own burning orbs glittering with the held back lust built up from the evening. Topped twice in one day by his mate was unacceptable. The lecture from their father tomorrow would surely be worth the disturbance he caused tonight.

Raphael's growls were more audible. Teeth dug down into his mate's skin. Hands groped a little too rough. Each shift in his position would bruise tomorrow. But Donatello's glazed over eyes and partially open mouth rang clear he was enjoying this. He huffed and puffed in response to his treatment, and a gasp for air entangled with a moan escaped his lips when Raphael bit a particularly sweet spot on his sweat beaded neck. His hand flew up to hold Raphael's head in place, but was immediately batted away and then slammed to the ground by the larger mutant. As if fearing conspiracy, Raphael took the other wrist into custody as well, maneuvering both above his brother's head to hold with one large hand.

His weight shifted onto his knees and Donatello was not as crushed under his brother anymore. Raphael lifted himself to allow his other hand access to roam and his hand ventured to his lover's thighs and issued an almost restraining squeeze. "Down." He commanded in a low voice.

Chills visibly ran down Donatello's body. Raphael Smirked.

As ordered, Donatello's throbbing member was freed from its hiding place, begging for attention.

Raphael ran his thumb over the head of the drenched shaft. His entire body was burning to enter his brother; to hear Donatello scream. He massaged the tip and was rewarded with an excited coo. He spread the pre-cum with his palm about the top of the flesh and pressured down with one finger, motioning up and down.

Donatello's hips leaped up with the touch and tried to pump his cock in Raphael's hands, but two heavy knees pinned his thighs to the floor. Raphael was dead set on taking the reigns.

And Donatello did not appear bothered by the notion in the least.

After a few deep strokes, Raphael's own flesh was protesting its imprisonment, and he willed it to drop from his protective shell. When it brushed against Donatello's leg, the pinned brother instinctively attempted to lift his entrance, but to no avail. Instead, an almost aggravated whine left his mouth between his panting.

"What's wrong, Donnie-boy?" Raphael resisted the urge to push his exposed flesh into his unprepared brother. If there was a medal for will power, today he earned it.

His question received no answer and he quit his work on Donatello's shaft. Another frustrated whimper followed and hips tried to move again and failed.

Raphael's free hand moved to his own cock demanding attention. His eyes narrowed when his hand wrapped around it securely. He let the wet tip nuzzle against Donatello's pinned legs.

"Raph..." Donatello muttered.

Donatello was positively shaking under him. Raphael released his cock and a warm stream of pre-cum landed on Donatello's plastron.

"Raph." Donatello said, strained but louder. He let his head fall back with a pleading sigh.

Raphael's finger rubbed the outside of his entrance now. "What's tha magic word?"

Donatello's head shot back up with his glossy eyes. His face was glowing from arousal and he looked so needy. "Please. Please, Raphie." Resistance at this point was futile. "Please..."

Raphael's finger, dripping with pre-cum he had gathered from his own tool, pushed past clinched skin, and Donatello's head hit the floor again. He maneuvered it around as carefully as his current state would allow, stretching his lover's entrance. Donatello impatiently squirmed when he pulled out. Raphael shifted more weight onto his knees.

Collecting more natural lubricant from the both of them, Raphael continued with one finger and then gradually slid in a second. Donatello went stiff for a moment; Raphael paused. When his mate relaxed, he proceeded.

"Please, Raph..." Donatello said in a stressed whisper when Raphael pulled the two fingers out of his entrance.

Donatello was so hot.

Raphael, as patiently as his body allowed, lined up his dripping cock with his lover's entrance. Then he pushed in, delicately compared to the ravaging his body wanted to do and leaned more of his weight onto Donatello's wrists.

His brother. Always so tight. Donatello's eyes were closed but his face spelled out pure satisfaction. Raphael placed his thoughts elsewhere to avoid getting off too early.

He almost pulled all the way out. The cold air felt strangely good against his searing flesh. And then he pushed in again, just as hard as before. And again. And again. Until he found his rhythm. Low grunts could not be contained. His brother's body was just too damned good at pleasing him.

Quiet groans from Raphael were nothing compared to Donatello's muffled shouts escaping through his bit lip when Raphael hit just that right spot in his body. He struggled to free his hand, just so he could cover his mouth. Raphael did not budge on his grip.

_No Donatello. I want to hear you._

Sweat dripped onto Donatello's plastron as he pumped himself faster and harder into his lover. Donatello squirmed more and more with each thrust and his head would come up to watch before falling back down again with an exasperated sigh. _..Football... ...Fighting... Leonardo... anything not sexy..._

Raphael's free hand found its way around Donatello's flailing shaft and proceeded at the same pace as his own plunges. Donatello let out a surprised gasp and he tried to hide his face into his own shoulder to stifle the shouts. He was failing miserably. Donatello seemed more out of breath than Raphael, despite the latter doing all the work.

Raphael was close. He desperately tried to concentrate on other things. His body, his brain, his instincts all told him to release and be done with it, but something else assured him Donatello would be screaming his name before that time --

"Raph! Please don't stop...please don't stop..." Donatello loudly chanted. And Raphael obliged. He stroked up and down Donatello's throbbing shaft with more intensity. He averted his eyes from Donatello's pleasure-filled face. _Not helping. Not helping._

"Get off for me, Donnie." Raphael said under his breath between thrusts. If faster was possible, he sped up. If he could push deeper, he did.So good. It all felt so good. Just need Donnie to--

Donatello lurched forward with all the strength he had in his body, though still remained pinned under his older brother. Shouting his sibling's name, loudly the first time, and then over and over in a quiet, brainless bout, his head hit the floor with a thud as he rode out his orgasm.

"...fuck." Raphael grunted through clinched teeth unable to hold out after Donatello's display. Between the screaming of his name and the tightening of Donatello's entrance when he came, Raphael spilled himself inside his brother. He remained above him, unmoving, fearing it would cut the ecstasy short.

Raphael wanting nothing more than to collapse on his brother once his elation had escaped, but he knew once that occurred, the floor would turn into their final destination for the evening. He finally released Donatello's pinned wrists and bent down with an affectionate nuzzle towards his beak. Two arms wrapped around his neck and Raphael used this opportunity to pull them both to a somewhat standing position. Just a few feet, and they could crash on the hammock.

Raphael welcomed Donatello to climb into the knotted ropes first. He did so without question. Raphael then adjusted the blanket for both of them to comfortably be covered and placed his arm around his lover in one smooth action. After he did so, Donatello turned around to face his plastron and met his eyes for a moment. He was searching for something, Raphael did notice, but was not entirely sure of what. Raphael shot him a puzzled look before Donatello just smiled and snuggled his face in between Raphael's shoulder and neck. The younger terrapin's arms came around Raphael in a great big hug that never ended. He was holding on for dear life, it seemed, much to Raphael's confusion. Whatever he was searching for, he had found, Raphael concluded. But Raphael was too... Raph to ask exactly what that was.

Donatello was out like a light before Raphael could do much questioning anyway. He adjusted his head, pulling it back slightly so that he could see the top half of his brother's head. His eyes were peacefully closed. At least for the moment, Donatello was happy, and Raphael allowed himself to smile. There was no one awake to see it, right? Raphael was the big brother. The wall. The tank. He had to maintain a certain persona to keep the others comfortable. That was just how it had to be. All but Donatello, of course. Donatello was special. And Raphael felt a sudden wave of vulnerability wash over him.

Raphael realized it then. And it hit him like a ton of bricks. This control that he longed to keep forever and wear like a badge of honor never existed. Donatello held all the cards. The smaller turtle could tear his heart out at any given moment for the sheer enjoyment of the torment. Raphael's reactions were dominating, but they solely relied on an action from his submissive partner to ever come to pass.

Donatello. He was the one that had control all along.

* * *

hah. i edited it and added what I originally wanted to do. screw you in the ass, shyness. oD


End file.
